Last Christmas Read online

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ said Cat. ‘I really don’t need any help now.’

  ‘So, nothing I can do?’ Noel hovered, feeling like a spare part.

  ‘Noel, you know the last time I let you loose in the kitchen it was chaos,’ said Cat. ‘I think everything’s sorted. Apart from the sodding Christmas pud of course.’

  ‘Well, I could hunter gather—like, go out in search of one if you want,’ offered Noel.

  ‘I think you’d be wasting your time,’ said Cat. ‘Besides, I need you here.’

  ‘For what precisely?’ Noel’s irritation got the better of him. ‘I’ve been hanging around all day. You need me for precisely nothing. I’m going to the pub.’

  ‘I didn’t mean—’ Cat looked stricken, but Noel was too cross to stop now. He stormed out of the house in a state of ire. Honestly. She was the limit sometimes. It was bloody hard to live with someone who was so sodding perfect. A soothing pint was all he needed to calm his nerves.

  The pub was thoroughly miserable. Lots of people had obviously come in on their way home from work and the place was packed. ‘Wonderful Christmas Time’ was blaring out from the loudspeakers. Yes, wasn’t he just having one of those. After a solitary pint squashed between a drunk solicitor, who was attempting to chat up the barmaid, and a couple of brickies, who looked like they were settling in for the rest of the afternoon, guilt kicked in and Noel decided to call it a day. He headed out into the cold December afternoon and decided to wander up to the little minimarket on the corner to see if they happened to have any Christmas puddings. By some happy miracle, there was one small pudding still sitting on the shelf. At least he could do one thing right.

  ‘Elves, this way! Fairies, that!’ Diana Carew’s voice boomed out across the village hall as half a dozen feverishly excited children rushed out of the changing rooms in costume. Marianne paused from administering face paint to an overexcited three-year-old who was going to be a puppy (since when were there puppies in the stable, she wondered). She had a headache and was not looking forward to the rest of her evening. Luke had refused to come to the Nativity, claiming family duties. She sighed. It would have been nice if he could have supported her in this one small thing. But apparently there was only so much time in his busy life and it didn’t extend to attending the Village Nativity play.

  Marianne knew the evening was going to be a disaster. Most of her reception class, who were playing a variety of angels, stars and animals, were so hyped up on the chocolate cake that Diana had foolishly provided they were going to be impossible to keep quiet. They were excited enough about Christmas as it was, and were overtired—clearly most of them had been having lots of late nights already—and the hour-and-a-half long performance was going to be beyond them. Lord knows how the preschoolers were going to manage, but that was Pippa’s department. She helped out a couple of days a week and had volunteered to look after the littlies, as she called them.

  ‘That’s me done,’ Marianne said, following her small charge out into the hall.

  ‘Wonderful,’ boomed Diana. ‘Right, we need our mice up on stage, and everyone else to be backstage. Chop chop. Your parents will be here soon.’

  Diana’s version of the Nativity had to rate as the most bizarre Marianne had ever seen. It followed the story of a little mouse who on Christmas Eve was sent to his room for not sharing his toys with the poor little mice who lived down the road. The mouse then encountered a magic fairy (with her half a dozen very tiny fairy companions, who did a rather long and baffling dance) who took him on a journey to discover the true meaning of Christmas, by way of Santa’s workshop, some selfish children, a poor little matchgirl, Bob Cratchit, various animals, and who eventually found himself in Bethlehem. Mary (an insufferable child who turned out to be Diana’s granddaughter) and Joseph got about ten seconds on stage and the only carol Marianne recognised was ‘Little Donkey’. Despite various suggestions from the Parish Council to shorten it over the years, according to Pippa, Diana wouldn’t be budged. So the Village Nativity was now set in stone as an event to be endured rather than enjoyed.

  Marianne and Pippa were in charge of the backstage area, a small anteroom at the back of the hall. The children were herded in like excited puppies and Marianne’s headache began to get worse, along with an anxious feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach. She was going straight from the show to Luke’s grandfather’s for another Nicholas family gathering.

  ‘So, are you all set for tonight?’ Pippa said, while she absent-mindedly replaited a fairy’s hair.

  Marianne grimaced.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I’m not looking forward to it at all. Luke’s relatives are all so stiff and ghastly. I’ll feel like a fish out of water.’

  ‘Ralph Nicholas can’t make you feel like that, surely?’ said Pippa. ‘He’s a sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh, he’s fine,’ said Marianne. ‘It’s just Luke’s mother I have to contend with.’

  ‘Ah, mothers-in-law,’ said Pippa. ‘What would we do without them? Actually, that’s not fair, Dan’s mum is a gem. I couldn’t manage at all if she wasn’t.’

  A call came for the fairies to go on stage and Pippa and Marianne watched from the wings as the children yawned their way through the dance. Despite Diana’s best efforts (she stood at the back doing every move with them—‘it’s a wonder she doesn’t leap on the stage,’ snorted Pippa), two of the fairies bumped into each other, one sucked her thumb and another spent the whole time in tears. And there was still over an hour to go.

  The play dragged on, a combination of folly and high farce, but eventually, to Marianne’s relief, it was finally over.

  ‘One down, one to go,’ she said with a grimace, as she and Pippa got the children ready to meet their parents. People were shouting ‘Happy Christmas’ and there was much merriment about how long the show had taken.‘Even by Diana’s standards, that was bad,’ said Pippa. ‘God knows where she’s going to take it next year.’

  Eventually all the children had gone and it was time for Marianne to go home and get ready. Pippa had rushed off in a whirl, grabbing her own children and getting ready for festive celebrations with various family members. Marianne envied her. She’d elected to stay here this Christmas rather than go home, but right now she was wishing for her own bed and a cosy family Christmas where she could be who she was without let or hindrance. She made her way down the lane to her cottage. Snow was falling gently. Oh well, at least being in the country she was in for a white Christmas.

  Cat was feeling out of sorts. She’d spent all morning cooking in the kitchen with Angela and come out to discover that the children had trashed the house. Before his little strop, Noel seemed to have spent the whole morning on the computer and done little to help. Honestly. He was the limit sometimes. Couldn’t he see that things needed doing? Why did she always have to point it out? It was that frustration that had spilled over and led her to make the bitchy remark earlier.

  She was guiltily aware it wasn’t altogether true. It was just that when Noel was in the kitchen, he seemed to fill the space and ruin the peace and tranquillity of her ordered way of working. There were occasions when he’d cracked open a bottle of red, put some music on and insisted on dancing with her as they cooked, when he actually made cooking more fun. But then there was the clearing up afterwards. She should probably lighten up a bit about that, but it was so hard when you always felt you had to take responsibility for managing everything.

  It was also frustrating to be the only one to write all the cards (though Noel at least had consented to put them in the post) and he’d shown scant interest in choosing Christmas presents. She’d been so busy with doing the extraneous extra pieces for the family—and his family to boot. Why Great Auntie Priscilla had to have bedsocks, and Cousin Ivy’s third grandchild needed a bath toy, Cat didn’t know. But she did know that Noel never paid any attention to that kind of thing and it was Expected. So she had to do it.

  There were also all the presents fo
r the waifs and strays she’d somehow ended up inviting for Christmas: as well as Mum, there was Auntie Eileen and Great Uncle Paddy (who wasn’t a real uncle at all but a friend of Cat’s grandfather), plus Angela, who generally managed to put people’s noses out of joint wherever she went, and Soppy Sarah (so called by the children for the way she went around weeping at the sight of small children and animals), their doolally neighbour for whom Cat felt terribly sorry. The trouble was, Cat could never bear the thought of anyone being on their own for Christmas, so somehow half the neighbourhood was now coming.

  She still felt guilty about her rubbish Christmas presents for Noel. Mind you, if he wanted more than a couple of CDs, the latest Terry Pratchett and a manbag, he should give her more time to go shopping. Noel was so bad at presents himself, he probably hadn’t got her anything at all. It had been known to happen.

  The door opened, and Noel came in looking triumphant.

  ‘I come bearing gifts,’ he said, holding a Christmas pudding aloft.

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Cat, ‘where did you get it?’

  ‘I paid a small fortune for it at the minimarket,’ said Noel, ‘but I do think it was worth it.’

  He kissed her on the top of the head.

  ‘Sorry about earlier,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ said Cat.

  ‘I’ve got a special Christmas surprise for you later,’ said Noel.

  ‘Oh, what?’

  ‘Well, it won’t be a surprise if I tell you, will it?’ said Noel. ‘But I think you’ll like it. Now come on, what else is there to do?’

  ‘If you could get the kids cracking on their bedrooms,’ said Cat.

  ‘Consider it done,’ said Noel, and was off shouting his way round the house, getting the kids fired up in a way that she never could.

  She’d been wrong to be so negative. Noel always meant well. She should try and listen more. They were going to have a great Christmas. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was the best one ever.

  ‘Are you sure we’re not putting you out?’ Gabriel asked Pippa for the hundredth time, as he helped sort out Stephen’s made-up bed on the floor of the boys’ room. Stephen was bounding about excitedly, holding up his stocking and saying, ‘Where can I put this, Auntie Pippa?’

  Gabriel had been in two minds about letting Stephen take part in the Nativity, but it had kept him occupied, and now he was so excited about staying with his cousins he seemed, for the moment at least, not to mind too much about his mother’s absence. Pippa had pointed out that his mum was so often out or away anyway that maybe it didn’t make as much difference as they thought—but Gabriel knew that that didn’t matter. Eve might not have been the best of mothers but Stephen missed her terribly. It was heartbreaking to see how much. Which was why Gabriel was determined his son should have a fantastic Christmas and was throwing himself into the spirit of things, even though he didn’t feel like it.

  ‘I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past,’ he said, throwing a sheet over his head and chasing the boys around the room.

  ‘Careful,’ said Pippa. ‘I really don’t want to end up in Casualty on Christmas Eve.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Gabriel, ‘I got a bit carried away.’ He felt a curious sense of dislocation, as if his feelings about Eve were on hold, but at the same time he felt almost giddy and intoxicated. He had the awful feeling that if he started laughing he might never stop.

  ‘No worries,’ Pippa touched him lightly on the arm. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’ll have to be, won’t I?’ said Gabriel.

  ‘Come on, let’s leave these rascals to go to bed and let’s get you fed and watered,’ Pippa said.

  Gabriel followed her down to the cosy kitchen and tried to join in the cheerful patter going on between Pippa, Dan and Dan’s sister and husband, who’d come over from a neighbouring village for the evening, but he found he couldn’t settle. His mind was constantly on Eve, wondering what she was doing. He kept checking his mobile. Maybe she’d left a message but—despite the numerous texts he’d sent her and messages he’d left on her phone, there was nothing. At least if he knew she was okay, it would be something to tell Stephen.

  His phone bleeped suddenly, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He scrolled through his messages. It was from Eve’s mum. Excusing himself, Gabriel put on his coat and went out into the front garden where the reception was better. Then, taking a deep breath, he rang his mother-in-law.

  ‘Hi, it’s Gabe,’ he said. ‘Any news?’

  Earlier in the week, Joan had been adamant she’d had no contact with her daughter, but now she was texting him out of the blue.

  ‘I’ve heard from Eve,’ said Joan, ‘and she said to tell you she’s fine.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘With friends,’ said Joan.

  ‘Have you got a number?’ Gabriel nearly shouted down the phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Gabe,’ said Joan, ‘she expressly asked me not to give it you. She doesn’t want to see you.’

  It was what he’d been expecting, but Gabriel was unprepared for the sharp searing pain that swept through him.

  ‘What about Stephen?’ Gabriel asked. ‘Surely she can’t not contact Stephen? It’s Christmas Day tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Joan, ‘she didn’t say.’

  ‘Please,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’ll understand about not seeing me, but please ask her not to do this to Stephen.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said Joan. ‘But you know she’s not in a good way right now. She’s very very ill. I’m not sure I can persuade her of anything.’

  Gabriel hung up and stared out at the snowy hills. He looked back at the warm glow from the cottage, the upstairs light indicating that Stephen and his cousins were still wide awake. How were they going to get through tomorrow? For the first time, he had to face up to the truth. Eve had gone. And this time, she really wasn’t coming back.

  This Year

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun shone as Gabriel took his ewes and lambs down the lane and out to pasture. He’d delayed getting them back on the hills because up until Easter Monday the weather had been so dreadful. But spring was definitely sprung, and it was a fine clear morning to be out on the hillside. He whistled as he made his way up the valley. He loved these early mornings here, the freshness of the air, the vast blue arc of sky above him, the gentle sound of sheep baaing, the rooks cawing in their rookeries, and the soft spring of the heather under his feet. And the colours on the hillside never ceased to amaze him, ever changing with the seasons. In summer he knew the soft pinks and purples of the heather would become lost in a blaze of glorious gold and green, and by autumn the hills would be red and orange, before fading to the muted soft greens of winter. He felt lucky to be here, at one with nature, enjoying the view.

  And since the Monday Muddle he felt luckier still. Marianne seemed to be slotting into his life in a comfortable and easy way. If Stephen had a late club at school, she often walked home with him and stayed for a cup of tea. The three of them had driven over the hills to an isolated country pub for Sunday lunch and then a long yomp across the fields. It had felt natural and right and, when they’d swung Stephen between them, Gabriel had realised with a jolt that this was what he had always been missing with Eve. Precious family moments had been few and far between, either because Eve couldn’t ‘cope’ with Stephen, so Gabriel had taken him out alone, or because, when she had come with them, invariably something would happen to create tension and he and Stephen would have to be on tenterhooks for the whole day. Gabriel tried and failed to think of a single day spent with his wife and son that had been this easy.

  He whistled as he wound his way into the valley near the proposed eco town. He could see that work had started already but was amused to notice that the foundations of the proposed houses were deep in mud, and the new back gardens, which led down to the river, were awash. When would they learn? This was such a bad place to build, any fool could see it. Although the weather h
ad perked up of late, the river banks were swollen, and the last few weeks in March had brought severe flood warnings that so far hadn’t come to pass. But if they did, Gabriel was fairly sure the river bank wouldn’t hold, and the eco town might get swept away before it had even been built.

  A few hours later, Noel was standing in the same muddy field looking round him in dismay. By dint of fudging things so that the bulk of the houses in the eco town would be built on the hillside, while the communal areas would be in the spot where there were potential floods, as per the government guidelines, the project been allowed to go ahead.

  Coming as he had from the rural beauty of Hope Christmas, it seemed more shameful to Noel than ever that they were tearing up this beauty spot for what was at best going to be a shiny new town with no heart and soul, and at worst was going to be a disaster, leaving both houses and GRB in a quagmire. The sun was shining but he was standing in a swamp and the river was flowing dangerously fast. Even Matt Duncan had blanched when he’d arrived. The soil was so damp, and had been for weeks, work had ground to a halt on the site, the foreman having pushed his workers off and put them on another job that they could actually finish. Noel didn’t blame him. In these financially turbulent times it made sense to get a job done so you could get paid. GRB’s finances were probably so precarious at the moment, the chances of the builders getting paid on time were slight to say the least, and any delay meant GRB’s credit controllers would be rubbing their hands with glee at the thought they could stall paying someone. Noel always failed to understand how credit controllers operated. Presumably they realised that their counterparts in the customers’ firms were playing the same game? Sure, they were saving GRB money, but someone, somewhere, was making sure GRB didn’t get paid, which in the end could be the difference between keeping your job or not.

  Noel swallowed slightly. He still hadn’t told Cat about the precarious nature of his situation, and though his heart wasn’t in this eco project at all, he felt duty-bound to give it his best shot. Maybe then his job might be safe? And maybe that promised bonus would materialise. But somehow Noel doubted it. There was a chill wind blowing across the business map these days. If he lost his job, for the first time in his life Noel wasn’t certain he’d get another one.